


lonely and alone

by undernightlight



Series: Gays in Space [38]
Category: Red Dwarf (UK TV)
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hard-Light Arnold Rimmer, M/M, Rimmer is an angst boy but when is he not, Rimmer's hard light and people can key into a game like in gunmen of the apocalypse, Season/Series 06
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-26
Updated: 2021-01-26
Packaged: 2021-03-18 14:55:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,253
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28994061
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/undernightlight/pseuds/undernightlight
Summary: Rimmer, with his loneliness in tow, escapes to a random AR game in hopes of finding something away from his bunkroom with the rackety pipes.
Relationships: Dave Lister & Arnold Rimmer, Dave Lister/Arnold Rimmer
Series: Gays in Space [38]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/951465
Comments: 3
Kudos: 22





	lonely and alone

Rimmer didn’t actually spend that much time on the AR machine, and that was for two reasons. One, Lister spent an obscene amount of his spare time on it, and so Rimmer didn’t often get the chance - and he’d seen Lister on the machine and wasn’t sure he wanted to be within six feet of it. Secondly, and if Rimmer was honest the more important reason, he worried that once he got in, once he was able to forget it was all just pixels and computer programs, he wouldn’t be able to leave.

He was cripplingly emotional at times, which he was proud to say, he’d managed to keep hidden from absolutely everyone. He’d been hiding it for so long, that sometimes, even he forgot what was real and what was just a show. He was a true coward, despite the fact that he was dead and now practically indestructible - though the fear of pain was now a very valid thing, but what about the rest? His confidence wasn’t real, he knew that, with this fake bravados and seniority when of course he had no idea what he was doing or saying. He was somewhat aware that they knew that too, but of course to what extent they knew, he didn’t, and so playing the part he was so used to after all these years was just easier.

One thing Rimmer was sure of however, was his loneliness. He’d never really had friends anyway, so he should be used to it but he wasn’t. Sometimes, he’d lay awake at night and stare at the bunk ceiling, alone with the rackety pipes, and he’d think about all the things he’d missed out on when he was alive. It never did him any good, but he found he was rather helpless to stop himself from doing it.

He’d missed out on a happy childhood with parents and brothers who’d loved him, and he’d missed out on school friends and extra curricular clubs and sleepovers. He missed out on prom, too scared to go alone and too scared to ask anyone to go with him and too scared to just be there regardless of if someone stood by his side. He’d missed out on a promotion and the respect that would’ve given him, and he’d missed out on wearing that dress uniform more than that one harrowing time.

What Rimmer felt he’d missed out on most though, was love. And that was why he kept his AR usage to a minimum.

He wasn’t that bothered about the sex part of things - though he’d unfortunately heard from Lister it was rather good - because it was the softer, warmer, more gentle things that he craved. Like reaching out and having a hand meet you, or being about to wrap your arms around someone and have them melt against you, or even just kissing someone in a slow, deliberate manner that meant more than words could convey. That’s what he wanted, so desperately craved, and he knew the AR machine could give him that, but if he gave in, then what was the point in coming back out again? Why leave a place where he was loved, digital or not, to return to reality?

Rimmer knew all this, and so he was just about smart enough to stop himself from using that AR machine. Of course, he had his moments, and this was one of them.

The headset was comfortably on and the game was loaded and his hands sufficiently gloved. He took a moment to stare, hopelessly trying to convince himself that he wasn’t really that lonely, that he didn’t need the AR machine tonight, but of course, as he already knew, it was very much hopeless. And so he took a deep breath, pulled the headset down and flicked down the visor.

Their game selection was limited, so of the six, Rimmer picked mostly at random. He’d used two of them in the past, and they were all fine, but with the cartridges in front of him, he wasn’t drawn to them, so instead he picked _Citynight 4: Purple Haze_ on a whim and prayed it be tolerable.

He materialized on a busy street, highrises either side and cars blaring along the road. As he scanned, he didn’t recognise the city or the general architecture, but everything was shiny and clean and lit in purples and blues and pinks. Odd for a city, less so for a videogame. As the title would suggest, it was night, the sky dark above, which contrasted the sheer amount of people around him, knocking into him as he stood unmoving.

He managed only a few paces before catching himself in the reflection of a building. Lister must’ve played the game last, as staring back was his figure dressed in black leather and cargo pants and thick, heavy boots. He didn’t like it much, wasn’t very him, but he didn’t know how to change it and didn’t care to go through the effort of finding out; ultimately, it wasn’t that important to him.

It was typical, he thought, that his loneliness would drive him into the AR, but then being surrounded by people, he found he rather hated it. Crowds were never his favourite, but he thought that maybe it’d be better than being alone in his bunk room. Rimmer found that wasn’t the case, but he still wasn’t ready to get out quite yet; this city may not be to his liking, but right now, anything was better than that bunk room. And so he started walking again, not exactly sure of the game’s objectives, but figuring it better to keep moving.

The watch he wore, a surprisingly clunky-looking black thing, beeped, and on the screen, popped up a map. He had a residence in this game, so the map indicated, and so he made his way there, following the directions. Whoever designed the game did a good job, Rimmer would admit, though it wasn’t to his personal tastes. It was all glass and shiny cars and neon lights, very impressive. It was funny though, the fiction of it all; he imagined Mimas could’ve looked something like this if it wasn’t so overpopulated and polluted, though he supposed now, Mimas was probably deserted, considering how the human race was extinct.

This apartment was a penthouse, and a fancy thing at that, with windows that were walls and furniture that looked half melted. The sofa was this large, ridiculous thing that snaked about the lounge, fitting itself around an equally odd shaped coffee table. There was a bar that thankfully looked fully stocked and a selection of barstools that he doubted had ever been sat in, judging by how perfectly in line they all were. Noticeably, there was an obscene number of mirrors, objects that weren’t his friends on a good day, so in his current state, he felt like smashing them all. And so he did.

One by one, he unhooked them from the wall and threw them down, the shards shattering out, each treble crash releasing tension from his body. The large ones he couldn’t remove, but it wasn’t hard to find heavy enough ornaments and decorations to throw at them. He missed a few times, putting dents - and even a hole - in the walls, but he didn’t care, it wasn't real anyway. He wondered if that negated the bad luck he was undoubtedly going to receive for his destruction but judging by his previous life experience, it couldn't get that much worse anyway. 

Eventually, with all the mirrors smashed, he collapsed to the floor. He ended up in the corner for it was the only place mostly free of mirror shards, and he slumped down against the windows. He found he didn’t even have the energy for that drink he so desperately wanted.

The city was much quieter up here. Though the angle was limiting, the people were now just dark little spots on the pavements, moving about, minding their own business. And there was no roar of engines, just silent traffic and gleaming headlights. Rimmer found it funny, in a sad sort of way, that even with the opportunity, with the chance to talk to people, to touch them, to interact like he's never been able to, he still wound up alone. Maybe that was just the way it was meant to be. At least his fears about the AR machine were perhaps unwarranted, because he couldn't imagine wanting to stay stuck in this game for the rest of his life. 

He could've fallen asleep there, face pressed against the cold glass, and he likely would've, if it wasn't for mirror shards breaking underfoot. He turned and saw Lister, looking down at his feet. 

"Smeg," Lister said under his breath as he took in the sight of the room. Lister's eyes found him then. "Rimmer man, what happened?" 

He should be embarrassed, and he was, but somehow not enough to move, to try and refute what was right in front of them, so he just shrugged. "What are you doing here anyway?" He then opted for instead, drawing his face into a comfortable sneer. "Do you make a habit of breaking into other people's AR games?" 

"No, not really, but no one else really uses the machine but me." As Lister approached, he took care with his steps, treading between the many broken pieces. "You left the door open. I saw the lights on and wondered who was using it. Was a bit surprised to see it was you."

"Who else would it be? Kryten never uses the thing and Cat hates that it messes up his hair."

Lister shrugged as he sank to the floor, resting his back against the arm of the couch. With his legs outstretched, his feet were just an inch away from Rimmer's. "You were sat on the floor, thought you were unconscious."

“Then you should’ve minded your business.” The hostility was clear, Rimmer made sure. God, why did he suddenly want to be alone? The whole point of the AR excursion was to not be alone, and now he wanted nothing more than to be rid of Lister. Rimmer realised that there was a difference between being alone and being lonely, but he wasn’t sure where he felt on that line, and what it really was that was the problem in that moment. But maybe the problem was because it was Lister.

Lister just shrugged again, like it was no big deal. “Had to make sure you were alright. And clearly,” he said, gesturing to the mess around them, “I was right to check.”

“What are you implying?”

“That something’s up with you.” Rimmer stared at him. “Maybe you need to talk about it.”

“I assure you, I don’t. And even if I did, I wouldn’t talk to you about it.”

“Why?”

“‘Why?’”

“Yeah, why?”

“Because it’s you, Lister.” _Because it’s always you._

Lister nodded, a simple little thing, before standing without another word. Rimmer wished he wasn’t drawn to watch the man move, but he was, and so he sat against the glass as Lister retrieved a dustpan and brush from a small closet by the main door, and began sweeping up the mirror shards. He hummed to himself as he swept, a tune Rimmer was vaguely familiar with, but only because of Lister. Lister didn’t speak as he swept, didn’t ask any more questions or make any snide comments about the mess, he just swept and hummed and got on with it.

Rimmer picked up a piece of mirror - he had to stretch for it, half laying on the floor for his fingers to start dragging it towards him - and he held it in his hands. What compelled him to do so, he wasn’t sure, but he looked at his reflection in it. Not a happy face, not a kind one either. Rimmer wondered, in an existential sort of way, if he ever had been happy, if his face had ever once been kind, and he just wasn’t sure. He wondered if his face would ever be kind; one would think it would be an easy thing to change, but when one was so set in their ways, as Rimmer knew he was, he doubted if he ever could change.

He shook the thought from his head, and staggered himself to his feet. Lister had swept most by then, a few pieces still close to where he’d been sat, pieced on top of the console table against the wall, beneath one of the large, impossible to remove mirrors. He placed the piece of glass in the bin, the liner surely ripped in many places now.

“There,” Lister said, setting the still full dustpan against the wall. “Good enough.”

“Everything’s just good enough for you, isn’t it Lister.”

“It’s a videogame, not like I needed to actually tidy it anyway. Now come on.”

As if Rimmer would understand, Lister started for the door. Of course, Rimmer did not understand, and he remained firmly in place. Lister very quickly realised he wasn’t being followed. “Oh come on, I just want to show you something, then, if you want me out of your hair, I’ll leave.”

A fair deal if ever he heard it from Lister, and so Rimmer nodded and followed Lister out of the penthouse apartment. He expected, perhaps rightly so, to take the elevator down, since there were no floors above them, however Lister led him along a corridor to an emergency exit door. Through there, a short flight of metal stairs, and then another door. Stepping out, they were on the roof.

The building was one of the tallest around, and so their view was just of darkness and stars and of twin moons, of thousands of little twinkling lights off in the distance, all flashing away and all computer simulated. The roof itself was void of light sources apart from one small cube in the corner, a lit up control panel beaming out pink light. Surprisingly, heights were one thing Rimmer wasn’t horrendously afraid of. Sure, he wasn’t the most fond of them, but if he didn’t look over the edge, he was fine. Lister seemed to agree with that sentiment, as he walked over to the control panel. Rimmer watched him key in a few codes, and when the cube pinged a few seconds later, Lister opened the hatch, and out he pulled a blanket. Rimmer continued to just watch as Lister laid the blanket out and sat upon it.

“Come on man,” he said to Rimmer, patting the space beside him, and feeling like arguing was rather pointless, Rimmer did so, taking a seat beside Lister. “I don’t use this game a lot,” Lister went on to say, “And it’s kind of weird, considering how we’re in space all the time anyway, but I like just coming up here and watching the sky.” Lister fell back against the blanket, tucking a hand under his head, and not quite knowing where this was going and not sure what else to do, Rimmer followed.

It was different though, from being on Starbug. Here, on this computer generated room, there was a computer generated breeze that sent little shivers along Rimmer’s skin, running along his back and down his legs. Despite how high up there were, he could still hear the faint sounds of cars and engines and of life, which meant a lot as a dead man. And there were clouds moving in; it was still a computer game, but this was as close to reality as clouds had ever been for Rimmer. Io never had them, and he’d never been to Earth. He thought, from the pictures he’d seen of Earth and of the night sky there, that they’d be a dark, muddy colour, and maybe it was because this wasn’t real, but the clouds pushing in were wonderful dark shades of purple and blue, matching everything else in this world. And with the twin moons, these ever slightly pink glowing orbs, it was quite a beautiful sight.

“It’s good, isn’t it?” came Lister's voice, and Rimmer rolled his head to face him. Lister’s eyes were already on him, and Rimmer felt a slight warmth in his face.

“It’s alright,” he replied with an attempted shrug, turning back to the sky. Lister chuckled.

“Should I get going then? You know, since I said I’d leave you once I’d showed you what I wanted to.”

Rimmer gave another shrug hoping it would be enough, and it was, since Lister didn’t move. Lister often went on about how, after the years they’d spend in deep space together, he knew Rimmer well, how he could read him like the back of his hand. Rimmer constantly debated the validity of the statement, but in moments like, he was alright with Lister knowing him well, at least enough that he didn’t need to painstakingly ask Lister to stay.

Beside him, Lister started humming again, that same tune as before. Rimmer had been enjoying the quiet, but he enjoyed listening to Lister too. Something about that tune held some weird nostalgia for Rimmer, something that reminded him of those days back on the Dwarf, everyone alive and well, repairing vending soup machines with Lister beside him, doing everything in his power to annoy him out of his skull; Rimmer never thought he could become nostalgic for a time like that, and yet, he was. He didn’t feel quite so alone, thinking back. Maybe he was missing the abundance of people, but if that was so, then he wouldn’t have hidden up in the penthouse from the busy streets below.

He didn’t feel quite so alone because Lister was there, he knew that really, deep down somewhere, in that part of him he kept locked. Lister always did a good job at rattling those chains though, and Rimmer had a feeling that would never change.

“Rimmer?”

“Hmm?”

“What happened before, with those mirrors?”

With a sigh, “I smashed them Listy, I thought that was clear.”

“I meant why man? What’s going on in that head of yours?”

Rimmer felt, suddenly, horrendously bare, like he was facing a dragon without armour. Sometimes that’s how conversations with Lister felt. It felt different this time because he knew that the dragon he was facing meant no harm, he could tell by the way it brought him up the roof and laid out a blanket for them. He knew Lister well, just as Lister knew him, and so he knew Lister wasn’t trying to cross a line, but was just genuinely concerned. Sometimes, Rimmer hated that about him.

Perhaps he was a fool or maybe he was, for once, using his brain, because he would face the dragon with no armour; he wouldn’t run away this time.

“Being stuck in space this long, it isn’t good for me - for us I imagine. It gets to me, and there’s nothing I can do about it because we can’t get back to Earth, and even if we did, there’s nothing left. Space, it’s all just,” and the best he could manage was to wave his free hand about in a messy way, but he caught how Lister smiled and nodded. “And I don’t like it.”

“So you smashed some virtual mirrors?” Lister questioned, a lightness in his tone that was teasing, but in a way Rimmer understood as friendly somehow, not the usual mean and cruel way he was used to; maybe that was it, Rimmer wasn’t used to that warmth.

Another attempted shrug. “It wasn’t my intention.”

“Then what was?”

“I came to the AR machine to just, be around people, see if that helped. I honestly thought it would. I honestly thought it’d help a lot, but I don’t think it did. I smashed the mirrors because I could, plain and simple - the apartment has far too many anyway.”

And Lister chuckled beside him. “Yeah, you’re right, far too many, well, not anymore. I don’t think there’s any left, not unless you missed the one in the bathroom.”

And Rimmer couldn’t help but snort. “Well, there’s at least one still standing.”

“Should probably get to breaking that too, full house and all.”

“More like a full bin.”

A silly, stupid joke was all it took to have them both grinning like the fools they were. Somehow, Rimmer was alright with that, being a fool, at least if Lister was too, which he was, Rimmer had no doubt.

“I’ll be honest,” Lister said, “about this whole space thing, I don’t like it much either. And sometimes, I wish I hadn’t gone into status you know, like, Frankenstein was still safe and that, but I just didn’t go into stasis, and I would’ve just been whipped out with the rest of you.”

“Charming.”

“But I mean, then neither of us would be in this mess would we? We’d just be blissful piles of wihte dust on the floor. But then I think of all the cool things we’ve seen, and I’m not saying that all makes up for it, but it’s something you know.” Rimmer nodded, understanding somewhat; being dead himself, he was about to tell Lister it wasn’t all it was cracked up to be, but Lister spoke before he could get to it. “You’re not alone in this though, I hope you know that. It gets to me too.”

Rimmer rolled his head, and just like before, Lister’s eyes were already on him, and Rimmer nodded as best he could propped up against his arm, the stupid smile completely gone, an expression far more solemn now worn on his face.

“And how do you deal with it?” Rimmer asked.

“I’m still working on that. AR games sometimes, and I’ve got my curry and my beers, and my guitar.”

“A real tragedy.”

“You’ve got your Hammond organ music and your Morris dancing and your telegraph pole photo collection.”

“It’s not people though, is it?”

“You’ve got me.”

Rimmer rolled his head back to the sky and sighed. “Yeah,” he said, voice warm and quiet, “I have you.”

Warm fingers brushed against his hand that lay free between them, ghosting along his knuckles before reaching and lightly tugging on his fingers, opening up his palm. And he let it, let his hand be gently pried open and have Lister’s fingers slip in with this, and Rimmer held on, tight. And Rimmer shut his eyes even tighter, wanting not to lose grip of reality - of artificial reality - because of how it felt to have someone hold onto him.

“Hey,” came Lister’s voice, equally warm and quiet as his had been. Rimmer didn’t want to open his eyes, but he heard rustling, and so he looked, worried Lister was pushing himself from the blanket. Instead, Lister had just rolled to his side, completely face Rimmer now, head cushioned against his elbow. “You’ve always got me.”

Rimmer nearly whimpered when Lister’s hand withdrew from his, but it was quickly back to his skin, to his face, gently brushing along his cheek, fingertips in his hairline. And it felt felt good, it felt like nothing else, and Rimmer though that this would be enough, but then Lister lent across and slowly kissed him, and then Rimmer knew that nothing would ever be enough unless it was this, unless it was Lister’s lips against his, gentle and soft and delicate in a way Rimmer didn’t know Lister was even capable of.

Lister started pulling back all too soon, and Rimmer was nothing if not selfish, so he had to push himself up to meet Lister’s lips again, to kiss him again. He felt a smile pressed against him, but his selfishness was rewarded, the kiss going on and on. Rimmer didn’t want it to stop - he didn’t have to, it's not like he needed to breathe - but Lister pulled back again eventually, slowing his movements, pulling back just enough to have them hovering around each other, breath ghosting on skin.

“You’ve always got me,” Lister repeated. Rimmer nodded just a little, just enough for Lister to see.

“Yeah. And you, urm, you have me, too, even if I am dead.”

A little smile cracked to Lister’s face, one Rimmer instantly knew was something teasing. “Well, if it makes you feel any better, I like you a lot more now than I did when you were alive.”

“Somehow Listy, it does.”

Rimmer kissed him again, relieved to know Lister let him, relieved Lister kissed him back; he hoped this was something that would just exist between them now, and if it did, he wondered if that relief from melting anxiety would ever leave, if he’d ever kiss Lister and just know he’d receive the same treatment. Rimmer wasn’t sure. He wanted to find out though.

Pulling apart one final time, Lister shuffled himself closer, slotting himself along Rimmer’s side, arm draped across his abdomen. Rimmer wrapped his arm best he could around Lister, his hand coming up and around his shoulders.

Abruptly, breaking the comfortable silence growing between them, Lister huffed a little laugh. “I wonder what that looked like from outside the AR machine.”

Rimmer shook his head, a playful little smile tugging on his lips despite the heavy weight he still felt. “I don’t want to think about the outside. This, this is enough right now.” It was. It was enough, because he didn’t feel quite so alone anymore. He had Lister, after all.

**Author's Note:**

> there's something about writing red dwarf/rimster fics that i just love - makes me so angsty but also so soft  
> do you feel that, or is that just me??


End file.
